


Memento Mori

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Memorials, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28861470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Honouring Noctis was never something that should be left to the assumptions and speculations of others.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Memento Mori

The statue had been a departure from the usual. The metal used for the armour was nothing like the heavy, hard iron and steel of the past Lucii. Instead, this statue was almost delicate with it’s intricate details set out with the finest craftsmanship that could be found in Lucis now that the dust had settled and the night had inched back into a natural order. There had been debate across the former kingdom about the design, but Cid had ignored them all, defended by Cor and Gladio, Ignis and Prompto. 

Some had wanted an almost mirror shine to the thing— to reflect the sun that the King had raised. Cindy had managed a brushed chrome, the finer details of flowering vines left barely visible after her work on the metal salvaged from the Citadel but became more apparent under the sun. And under Ignis’ touch. The armour fashioned by Cid was not the bulk of the Lucii predecessors— their empty husks and sturdy shells monuments to strength and weathering centuries of vigilance— but smaller and lighter. It seemed understated compared to the monstrosities and behemoths that had come before, littering new memorials in pieces and scrap. The heavy handed display of strength and power of the previous Kings and Queens of Lucis had been swept away in the new light of dawn with Cid’s delicate work on the almost gentle armour set before the Citadel now.

“He would hate it,” Prompto announced. His voice an echo in the empty plaza approach where the banners of the King of Lucis once stood. The dormant Crystal was mounted behind the statue, casting an appropriate shadow over the almost diminutive memorial. 

In place of the formless helm of past Kings was a death mask. Ignis knew it was there, that Noctis’ image had been set in place faithfully by the artisans they had trusted with their weapons over the years. Cid insisting that if anyone was “going to do justice for the kid, it’ll be the one who didn’t cut him slack.” 

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed softly, arms crossed as he stepped back to look it over. “But it’s tradition. And Cid did make it. There’s one going up in Altissia and Tenebrae too.”

Ignis let his hand trail over the now familiar cut of armour. The statue made to a similar shell as the others, the metal wrapped and molded around nothing of substance but a thin frame to keep it standing and anchored. Noctis’ own sword served as one of the anchor points, planted firmly downward with armoured hands wrapped around the hilt with none of the comfort or casual ease Noctis used to hold the weapon with. Across the world, similar memorials in the major cities had their own pieces of the Armiger, though Tenebrae had taken two— the Oracle laid to rest with the Trident she had taken up in life. 

“Fuck tradition,” Ignis said, hand falling away from the familiar weapon now no more than an ornament. “Noctis would not have wanted this.”

He would not have wanted some public display in the shadow of the Citadel he had rebelled against for most of his life. He would not have wanted the ornate shell of armour that was once a promise to the people that the Crystal would resurrect the Lucii in times of trouble. He had spent the bulk of his life trying to escape this very fate. 

He heard the smile in Prompto’s voice; “We should do something in Vesperpool, or that little spot by Daurell he liked.”

“I’d say the Forgotten Pool,” Gladio chimed in. “You know that spot he’d drag us to when we waited for nightfall.”

Ignis smiled at the memory. The way they had watched the afternoon sun make it’s slow way through the sky when it had seemed like they had all the time in the world. Noctis had found excuse after excuse to visit the ruins half submerged and toppling into the water when they were in the area— hunts, long car rides, a speculation that there were wild vegetables and herbs to hunt for, or hints of treasure. He remembered the way Noctis seemed to settle in on the makeshift pier or in the tall reeds, intent on the still waters; how Gladio lounged with a book nearby and how Prompto wandered off with his camera or phone to catch pictures of dragonflies or fireflies. 

“Perhaps that would be a good idea,” Ignis agreed. “A memorial there. Or a trip at the very least.”

This statue would never move. It would never be like the others who had held the Old Wall when Lucis was young. The Crystal’s power would never place the ghost of the King of Light into the shining shell set before the Citadel. And that was a mild relief when Ignis considered what the Lucii had truly been: slaves to a Crystal and war god that had refused their peace. 

Prompto’s hand on his brought him back to the plaza, “Come on, Iggy. Let’s grab a bite and plan a fishing trip. Do Noct some justice with some sushi and a car ride.”


End file.
